The Life of Lies
by Half-Pissed Artist
Summary: The Citys best streetracer finds herself with a dilema... Who is she really? Pre-Jak2/Jak2. Few 'bad words' pop up later on so it's an 'M' as a precaution... many cannon characters show up later too... SEMI PERMENANT HIATUS. MAY BE RE-WRITTEN IN THE FUTUTRE.
1. Introduction

She walked towards the track, her face shrouded, eyes betraying nothing. Underneath her calm, casual illusion, she was tensed like a coiled spring. This was the normal Pre-race adrenalin, and this was what gave the streetracers the courage and the extra push to actually compete.

"Prepare to lose your title, Barmaid!" Yelled a dark haired woman, dressed in racing clothes that definitely wouldn't protect her in an accident, if you catch the drift.

The Streetracer shook her head, turning away from her 'competition' as she spoke.

"You'll be kissin' my fender by the end of this race, Steel. You know why you never win? Those boobs hanging out slow you down like a parachute." Her voice was emotionless, flat. She'd perfected this in her many years of Racing.

She jumped into her vehicle, and the other drivers did likewise as the count down began…

_Five…_

What was she doing?

_Four…_

This wasn't her.

_Three…_

Then what was?

_Two…_

She had so many identities, false identities.

_One…_

Her whole life… what was it really?

_GO!_

A lie.

She sped round the track, leading the racers from by a good space, and lengthening it all the time. The cornering was her biggest let down.

"Damn it!" She muttered, sliding wide on the third turn. The racer checked her mirror, seeing how her competitors were fairing. Steel was closing fast.

The barmaid pulled the vehicle into a dramatic power slide, taking it into an alleyway, one of the biggest perks of street racing.

There were so many short cuts, but no one new all of them… Apart from her of course!

Thirty minutes passed, as the racers dodged and drove round buildings and other abandoned vehicles. Steel smirked as she crossed the finish line, pulling herself from the car and wandering over to the tiny box, in which the elf who paid the winners was sat. He passed her the usual amount.

"I came first." She said flatly, pushing the money back at the man. He shook his head, and she growled, taking her winnings and turning to leave.

She watched Steel's departure from the shadows, chuckling at the other racers anger. She turned to leave, feeling empty inside. She'd won, but she hadn't, not really. She sighed. Her lives were lived at different ends of the law, by her as someone she wasn't. Now, she'd been playing it so long, she didn't know who she really was anymore.


	2. Chapter 1: NYFE, the cause and idea

Chitch sighed, picking up the pieces of a broken beer bottle carefully.

"Hello sexbomb! How's crimes?" Yelled a small blue furred creature, startling Chitch.

"Bastard!" She muttered, cutting her hand on the glass.

"Morning, Sparky. Well, the damage ain't too bad…" Chitch was interrupted as one of the larger trophies on the wall, the heads of long dead beasties which Sig brought in, fell down, crashing into a newly delivered box of spirits.

"… For an NYFE after party…" She shook her head, walking over to the broken box and checking the amount of damaged bottles. She sighed in exasperation, picking up the crate and walking out to the street.

Chitch removed three unscathed bottles of spirits from the box, placing them in her bag, then dropped the rest into the dark, deep water of the Haven City Docks. She heard voices, which was unusual at 'twilight hour', the one time of day Haven's crowded streets were, well, not crowded.

She looked back into the bar, seeing Sparky keeping occupied with the half empty bottles of alcohol from the evenings festivities, then, satisfied she could get away with it, She snuck over too a neatly placed zoomer, and crouched behind it, her small frame shielded from view.

"I've told you before, Ritah. No one ever beats Erol at air racing." Said a voice Chitch recognized as High commander Nox of the Krimzon Guard.

"Yes, Sir… But, I bet a streetracer could outrace him…"

"Well, I've heard rumors that the City's best streetracer is a lot better than Erol… We should test that theory one day…"

A small smile spread across Chitch's face. The Commander's theory would be tested and proven right. She would have to see about it later… Right now, she had more mess to clear at the bar. Chitch snuck away, leaving the KG's to talk amongst themselves, and headed back to her waiting 'career'.

"So, Chitch, Lemme get this straight…" Sparky began a confused look on her face. She was plonked down on a collapsed couch in what was once an old Underground HQ, but was now, thanks to the Baron, Chitch's illegal abode.

Chitch tied up her hair, putting her cap on as she spoke. "I intend to race against Erol. As a street racer, of course. But, he really needs to be taken down a peg or two." Pulling her necktie up across her face, she walked to the door.

"Do I get a say in this?" Sparky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wanna come?"

The eco demon nodded vigorously.

"Com'mon then… Let's go catch me an air racer!"


End file.
